Liberty
by Withered Fleur
Summary: Alfred F. Jones was born on July 4th, 1776. Yet no one in the world besides his mother, America, and the government, knew of his existence. He was kept hidden for centuries, America fearing for the both of them. Everything changes when America disappears without a trace, leaving the US government to make a fateful decision and to wait for the World's reaction.


"Happy birthday, Alfred!"

The cheers of the guests resonated off the walls. Champagne glasses clinked, white house officials laughed and sang, Alfred laughed along as always. This happened every year, it was routine. Government officials would wish him well while still keeping everything about him enclosed to the public, they celebrated once a year, fireworks boomed loudly in the sky outside, and the president shook his hand, so on.

Alfred couldn't help but feel so dull from the sheer constant routine that went on without interruption for over two-hundred years.

He didn't know how his mother dealt with it.

"And to your mother, America, of course," the president said, laughing boisterously. The rest responded just the same. His mother couldn't make it to her own independence day. The other day, he saw her desk littered in bills and other paperwork. With campaigns in full swing, she had to make appearances and communicate with candidates. He felt it was too much for her to miss her own day as well, the day dedicated to her.

"It's too bad she's finding your replacement on this day," one congressman said, his southern accent evident. Alfred appreciated accents, but he always found that one congressman annoying just because of his voice. He cringed inwardly from the words he spoke. He knew well that it was a jest, something to get everyone else laughing once more. But with campaigns going on and having a democratic president in power, of course one would say that.

The president wheezed and said just as loudly, "Or maybe an heir apparent, hm?"

"Now, now, let's not discuss politics here."

"Kinda hard when you're in the White House."

Everyone laughed. Alfred recognized that raucous laughter, they all sounded the same. It was that political laugh. He's memorized it by now. The President cleared his throat and said, a little more loudly for everyone to hear, "Hah, true, but we have a birthday to celebrate; As well as America herself despite her not being here."

Alfred felt nearly every pair of eyes on him. He presented his million-watt smile in return, knowing how every politician, no matter the political spectrum, indulged that famous smile.

"Hard to believe he's just as old as the country itself yet still looks like he just graduated high school."

"Envious."

Alfred laughed. He was always hungry for praise, just like his mother was. He scratched his head, "Hah, thanks guys."

The party went smoothly. Many went up to him to wish him well as well as apologizing that America, nation herself, couldn't attend. He would brush it off and thank them, showing off his over-confident self. Yet White House hosted parties usually turned boring for him, he would leave and head outside, where no one knew him. He was just another face, another name, another statistic no one knew. The humid July night was adorned with fireworks and wild cheering. He could hear the screams and shouts of, _'God Bless America!'_ and _'Happy fourth!'_ Some years he would join the crowd, some years he wouldn't.

He stood outside the White House borders, staring at the sky above. The fireworks were never ending and with a bang, they ended. The celebration of liberty would come to an end until next year. Yet, there was always an emptiness building within him every year; loneliness, control, and the truth of him being unknown.

Alfred Jones was born on July 4th, 1776. Yet no one in the world besides his mother, America, and the federal government knew of his existence.

* * *

America, or Amelia as those close to her referred to her as, was an enigmatic woman. One moment she was loud and gregarious, the next she was a cold, stubborn person. Alfred always saw the in between of her. She was a doting mother, but treated Alfred as any other nation. She laughed with him, jested with him, and taught him from an early age. She was all he had, besides the constant government protection.

He's surprised. Even after the climax of the Edward Snowden scandal, Alfred was sure he was next to be exposed.

Nothing happened to him.

He knew the truth of why he was constantly protected. He always knew. He could tell from the cringe and fear of his mother's expression whenever he asked, whenever he wanted a change. He was still a child under her protection after all. It didn't matter that he was over two hundred years old. He was the child of the United States of America. Therefore, he had to follow her lead. The National Security Agents would tell him exactly why he absolutely had to be kept a secret, what it would take to be exposed, and what the aftermath would be.

It was simple. Alfred found it stupid.

His mother had full clearance on Alfred's information. His mother can one day decide that Alfred should be exposed and also the power to keep him as a secret for eternity. Everyone else who dared to tell another soul without America's consent was to be sentenced, supposedly. It never happened so many had no idea what the exact punishment should be. All they cared about was the aftermath, how much chaos it would cause.

Alfred never understood why it was so absolutely necessary to be kept confined this way. Their motive was to protect him from his father at all costs. That isn't to say that Alfred never knew his father. Just by looking at his birthdate, anyone could tell who the father was. It wasn't a surprise. Alfred has seen him before, in person; from the constant visits to his mother on meetings, outings, and other politics.

He knew what nation he represented, his name, his height and weight, the overwhelming scent of rain and freshly brewed tea, and the dangerous stare of his green eyes. They made eye contact multiple times and he always made the same face. Perplexed, interested, a look of familiarity. Alfred's mother, Amelia, was always in the room and would always say excuses that he was a government aid, an entourage, or anything related to the matter.

Amelia would berate Alfred afterwards. She would always point out that other nations can sense a presence of another immortal being. She would be in a panic, causing him to be in one too due to her constant protection. It would last for days usually. Amelia would return to her old self as if nothing happened. Alfred knew what was wrong, she was afraid. She was absolutely terrified. She would paint over her emotions to prevent others from worrying.

It was more evident during the Cold War, according to his memory. She was nearly always on edge. She would have violent mood swings and turn into a completely different person. Sometimes, Alfred didn't know who the true Amelia was. He was utterly alone, only having top advisors by his side that would smoke, drink, and talk only about the daily politics.

It drove him insane.

He wanted the freedom he was the promised the day he was born.

* * *

The White House Staff, notably the President, were constantly contacting his mother days later. They were wondering where she gone off. It was common knowledge that Amelia would respond either minutes or hours later and this sent everyone into a flurry.

What was peculiar was that Amelia never failed to send a birthday message at the very least. Call him a spoiled child, but this one missed tradition made him fear for the worst. For a brief moment, there was a fear that she could have died. But he knew that couldn't have happened unless the US went into full out anarchy or, some way or another, was completely abolished.

Alfred constantly called and texted her; having the slight hope that she would respond to her son rather than the government. None of the replies were read and none of the calls made through. The calls would always direct him to her cheery, personal voicemail, ' _Heya! You just reached the US of A! I'm not available right now but just leave your name, number, and message and I'll be back to ya in a jiffy!'_

More days passed, then weeks. They often got calls from other leaders of the world and nations asking when Amelia would finish something or why she wasn't responding. Alfred knew her personal and work email information and he saw on both accounts there were thousands upon thousands of emails unread. The phone in her office had an ungodly number of missed calls. The same papers and bills that littered her desk weeks ago were still there, now collecting dust. He was afraid to touch anything in that room and read her emails. The subjects ranged from, _'Trade Agreement Queries,'_ to, _'Where the fucking hell are you?'_

It seemed forever until there was talk to release a statement of America's AWOL and of that who would represent the nation along with other nations when needed. It was heavily hinted when Alfred was around their presence, but it was always accompanied with a hesitant look or answer. Alfred knew that they considered him qualified, but they didn't want to go against America's wishes. In all of this, he remained silent. He wasn't sure why himself. This, in fact, was his chance to be revealed, or the possibility of it. He dreamt of this, ever since he could remember.

"God dammit!" Alfred exclaimed, throwing his phone on his bed. He threw himself on the bed, letting his hands run through his hair in frustration. It was incredibly excruciating and stressful to not hear a single peep from his mother, as well as constantly hearing the annoying personal voicemail.

The stress was becoming evident. It was wrecking his body and health in just a few short days. He couldn't sleep, he saw bags starting to form under his eyes, he was constantly fatigued and overworked, and he always felt filthy and sick. He was hoping this was a cruel joke she was playing, or that she was absolutely drowned in work and conversing the candidates, or perhaps she was drunk out of her mind. He didn't know which was best, just as long as she was okay and that she would reply to at least one of his messages soon, or to anyone in that matter.

There was a rap at his door and, without his audible consent, it swung open, revealing a group of White House Officials. Alfred groaned loudly from the sudden noise.

"Mr. Jones?"

He propped himself up on his elbows to see the men at his door. His eyesight took a few seconds to refocus. "Wha—?"

"Get up. The President needs to speak to you."

Everything was sudden. From the moment they pulled him out of bed, literally propping him up as they walked to the Oval Office, to the very second he locked eyes with the President. The Vice President and Secretary of State were accompanying him.

"Here he is, Mr. President."

"Thank you. You're dismissed," He said, in a crisp voice, "You can sit down, Alfred."

He didn't respond until the doors closed behind them with an audible click. He took his seat across from him. A rising bubble of anxiety was threatening to grow when he realized the atmosphere. He always talked to Presidents and other higher office officials and felt at home, but there were always times when it was dire. This pushed him over the edge. It was definitely about his mother and the current situation they were in. His body was visibly shaking without his knowledge when they drew their breath.

"Alfred," the President said, earnestly, "I'm going to cut right to the chase. Then I'm going to give you a choice and it has to be made within the hour. Got it?"

Alfred's stomach plummeted several feet from the sheer direness of the situation. He could only nod, unable to utter a word of affirmation. The President glanced at his two other companions, both giving nods of approval for him to go on.

"We're going to release a statement on America's disappearance. The people are bound to be in a panic, a good number at least. But, here's a choice _you_ have to make."

The emphasis on _you_ sent shivers down his spine. He never felt so sensitive before. He didn't know if it was because of his mother's disappearance or that he was actually going to have some sort of power in decision making.

In fact, he didn't know which was better.

The silence allowed the President to go on, "Alfred, you can either take over indefinitely until she comes back or we can let a higher official take over for the time being."

Alfred couldn't move. Was he hearing this right? If he agreed to the first choice he was going to have the same power as his mother? He was unsure for a brief moment if he even understood English in its entirety.

"But," he said, suddenly, "There are consequences. While you're now practically officially the United States, if you choose to take over, it's most likely going to send everyone into hysteria and not everyone will cooperate with you. You'll have to prove yourself that you can do the same as America can. Also, we can get into trouble, as well as your parents."

America opened his mouth to ask a question. The President noticed his expression and immediately answered, "It's a long story. It's just a bunch of legal charges. Hopefully, if you go with this, we would just have to pay a fine."

Alfred was still confused. But he knew the main issue here, whether or not he will take over. The time limit was unbearable, he didn't know if he could make a fateful decision in such a manner. A thought hindered him, "Aren't we breaking the law? Or, like, many laws?"

The Secretary of State jumped in, as if he knew Alfred was going to ask this, "Technically. It's complicated. Ultimately, once we release the statement, either you or whoever will take America's place will be the United States. If you choose to take over, it's technically legal since you are her child and it makes more sense, in my humble opinion. It's illegal because we and hundreds of others have been hiding you for centuries. So it's more of a roll of the dice. Like the president said, it will most likely be fines that we have to pay in the end."

This was political suicide.

Alfred had seen many cases of this but he never witnessed one in person, or even being involved in one. This was sheer madness that they were considering. He eyed the President, making sure he wasn't completely insane.

He shrugged and said, "Well, it is my second term. So I'm leaving with a bang."

"Can't you get impeached?"

Silence.

Alfred wondered if they even considered this.

"Depends on what the House thinks."

This was really a roll of the dice. A risky, political gamble was happening in the very Oval Office and Alfred briefly wondered in awe if his mother went through this. Amelia was always a concise, risk player. She knew how dangerous situations would be and she always dove into them with valor and confidence. She took advantage of the liberty she was earned and lived up to it.

In that moment, Alfred knew his destiny. He had to do the same, even if he was going against his mother. Just like Amelia did to Alfred's own father all those years ago.

"Mr. President," Alfred said, confidence slowly building in his voice. All eyes were on him as he stood, his legs still lightly shaking from the fateful decision about to happen. Alfred drew a breath, knowing this wasn't a dream, because liberty was never a dream. It was a choice and a God-given right.

"I'll take over in place of my mother, America."

The President, in that moment, got up and shook Alfred's hand firmly. He found a new glint, a new sparkle in his eyes. Alfred never felt more important until that moment.

* * *

 **A/N:** I am not dead. I am slowly getting back into writing because work and college applications started to calm down. I am still very busy but I am working on the other stories for sure! I am almost done with the new chapter for Alfred and working on Where Home Is.

By the way the time here is ambiguous but takes place in near-future. So it's not completely present. This will be pretty short and chapters will be longer. Thank you for reading and see y'all next chapter!


End file.
